Bad Boy Blues(66)

His words are a dose of electricity. A shot of vodka. And maybe even a hit of cocaine. Everything in my body buzzes and vibrates and clenches.

Even my soul.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you too,” I admit. “Maybe just as long as you have.”

Shuddering, he grabs my ass and drags me up his body. I wrap my thighs around his waist as he all but falls on the bed with me in his arms.

Suddenly, I’m inundated with him. His warm, hard body over me, his smell on the sheets even though I just put on fresh ones, and his mouth on mine.

He’s kissing me over and over.

Actually, it’s all one long kiss where he sucks on my mouth as a whole before forcing it open with his tongue. He sweeps it over my teeth, tangles it with my tongue and gorges on my taste.

It’s exactly the way he smelled me that night.

He was eating my smell, and now he’s eating up my mouth. He’s eating up our first kiss.

Something breaks loose in my chest at the thought.

This is our first kiss.

I’ve known him nine years and this is the first time I’ve known his mouth. It’s a tragedy. It’s a travesty. It’s outrageous.

We should’ve been kissing the very first moment we met. We should’ve been kissing for years, for ages, for eons.

We were made for kissing, he and I.

His hands are roaming all over my body, dragging the fabric of my uniform up and up, until my thighs are all bare and open and he can knead the flesh.

My own hands can’t stop touching him, feeling his shoulders, his back, grabbing his ass. The blunt heels of my boots rub against his jeans, slide along the bed as I kiss him back.

I do what he tells me with his mouth to do. I open. I let him in. I let him play with my tongue. I let him taste me.

And in all of that, I’m tasting him. His blueberry pie taste mixed in with something that’s only and irrevocably him. I’m sweeping and sucking and pulling at his mouth. And I’m moaning.

I’m moaning so, so hard. I can feel the vibrations running up and down my limbs. I can feel my moans wetting my channel. I can feel his dick too because it’s hard and it’s rubbing up against my core.

We’re writhing on the bed, humping against each other, making noises in each other’s mouths.

I feel like I could come like this. I could go off like a firework, even better than last night.

But Zach shifts my world again.

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me up. Our teeth clack as we change positions and our kiss gets broken.

I’m panting into his mouth as he spreads his thighs and maneuvers my body, making me straddle him.

My uniform is pooled around my waist, baring my blue panties. There’s a dark spot there that makes me undulate against his erection.

His erection that’s peeking out of the open fly of his jeans.

I can’t look away from it, from the broad head of it, the purple color. The pissed-off color of his cock. Surrounded by dark, mysterious curls. I want to touch them, touch the head of his dick that has a drop of pre-cum oozing out of it.

“Show me your tits.”

His rasped words force me to look away from his erection and at him.

He’s breathing heavily, too. I guess he was doing his own watching. While I was ogling his cock, he was staring at my chest. A button has come undone, stretching the gray fabric obscenely over it.

Swallowing, I ask, “What’re you going to do to me, now that I’m yours?”

Maybe I should’ve asked this before I stepped into his room and so brazenly kissed him. Yeah, that would’ve been the smart thing to do.

But that ship has sailed.

Zach thrusts my dress up some more, until my ass is bared, before grasping the cheeks in his hands and massaging them. He pulls them apart before pushing them together and every time he does that, my clit grinds against his dick.

“You afraid?” he asks in an abraded voice.

“No. Maybe a little.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips, making my heart melt. “I’m gonna use you up.”

“What?”

He nods, his nose rubbing up and down my own. “Yeah. Why shouldn’t I? I hate this place. I hate every second of every day that I’m here. I deserve this. I deserve something good, don’t I?”

I cup his jaw and say with everything inside of me, “You do.”

“I’ve decided that you’re it. You’re what I deserve.”

“Me?”

“Uh-huh.” He kisses me again, softly, in such contrast to all the harsh, possessive things he’s saying. “So I’m going to use you up as long as I’m here. I’m going to kiss you, bite you, suck on your tits, play with your cunt. As much as I want. Whenever I want. You’re my prize, Blue. You’re my prize for all the fucking suffering.”

Prize.

I’m his prize.

The rush of his words feels sweeter than the orgasm last night. So much sweeter.

I’ve never been a prize for anyone. No one’s ever wanted me as a reward, as a trophy for all the suffering, for all the misery.

Yes, I’ll be his prize.

I rub up against him and bare my neck so he can kiss me there. He does.

“What do I do? As your prize,” I whisper.

He puffs out a breath on my collarbone. As if in relief.